


We're On Recovery Road

by hypochondriacandatrashmouth



Series: We're On Recovery Road (WORR) [1]
Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Captain Marvel (Movies), Deadpool (Movies), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (All Media Types), Thor (Movies), Venom (2018)
Genre: Almost everyone had PTSD, Amnesia, Anger Management/Anger Issues, Anorexia, Anxiety, Attempted Suicide, Bipolar Disorder, Bodily/Muscular Disphoria, Depression, Eating Disorder, Enemies to Friends, Hospital - Au, OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Other, PTSD, Paralysis, Phantom Limbs, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Schizophrenia, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, This whole thing is one big trigger warning, Venom is a schizophrenia-induced image to Eddie, deafness, excess bodily warmth, institution, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of past rape, self harm and suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2019-11-13 04:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 16,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18024662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypochondriacandatrashmouth/pseuds/hypochondriacandatrashmouth
Summary: A group of people meet at a hospital during a group therapy session. At first, they cannot stand one another but overtime, they grow closer and, soon, inseparable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This whole story is one big trigger warning (listed in the tags). If any of these trigger you, I suggest not reading this.

It was quiet, save for the tapping of Scott's fingers on the plastic chair. He couldn't stand quiet. Quiet gave him time to think and when he had time to think, it allowed him to go back over the events that had brought him to this room. Why did you do it, Scott? And why had it not finished you off? Those were the thoughts that took over during the silence. He hated those thoughts.

The sound of the door swinging open and the sound of footsteps drew him out of his thoughts. He looked to the door and saw Ms. Maria Hill there with a younger girl beside her. The girl was thin and had brownish-reddish hair.

"Scott," Ms. Maria said. "This is Wanda. She will be joining us for our session today."

"Why?" Scott asked. "I thought these were supposed to be private sessions?"

"We're moving up to group sessions."

"But–"

"Everything _anyone_ says will be confidential."

"But Ms. Maria–"

"Scott," the woman said sternly. "It'll be _fine_."

Scott fell silent and turned back around in his seat.

Ms. Maria led Wanda over and had her sit down in a seat she had moved from the corner. The older woman sat in her usual seat, which was now between the two.

Scott already hated this; Wanda Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Is hadn't spoken a word so far, she was cutting into his time with Ms. Maria, and she looked like simply skin and bone.

"Alright," Ms. Maria said. "Since we're starting group sessions, I want you two to introduce yourselves to each other."

Wanda and Scott simply stared at one another, neither saying a word. Ms. Maria looked between the two.

"Well?" she said.

Wanda opened her mouth, but Scott started speaking.

"Hi, I'm Scott Edward Harris Lang. Room 415. And I'm in here because I tried to kill myself!" he said, holding out his hand.

Ms. Maria and Wanda both stared at him.

"Mr. Lang, what the _hell_ was that?" Ms. Maria said after a moment.

"What? You said for us to introduce ourselves, so I did!" Scott said.

"That was very insensitive!" Ms. Maria shouted.

"You didn't specify what to say and what not to say!" Scott shot back.

Wanda watched the two silently from her seat. She had a small smile on her face now.

"Wanda," she said.

Scott and Ms. Maria fell silent and looked at her. Scott went back to leaning against the beck of his chair while Ms. Maria looked back to her clipboard.

"I'm Wanda Maximoff," the young ginger repeated. "And I have a dangerous mind."

Scott nodded. "I see," he said. "Like, how dangerous?"

"We don't have to talk about that if you don't want to, Wanda," Ms. Maria said.

Wanda nodded and looked down again.

Scott kept his gaze on her. She was small and looked damaged and as though she was hiding a horror of a life-story behind her eyes. And in that moment... Scott decided he didn't mind being in a group session with her.

***

Tony was sitting in the activity room, drawing on a piece of scrap paper. He nibbled at his lip as he inspected the sketch. He shook his head and quickly erased it.

He was getting ready to redo what he had erased when the door flew open with a BANG! and a boy ran in and slammed it shut and pressed his back against it, eyes wide and terrified.

The nurse who watched this hour in the activity room stood up quickly and went over to the boy. "Eddie, Eddie sweetie," she said. "You're not supposed to be out of your room right now."

"He found us– He found us!" the boy, who Tony now knew as Eddie, said nervously.

"Who?" the nurse asked.

"Riot. Riot found us!"

"Who is 'us,' Eddie?"

"Me and Venom..."

"Who is Venom?"

"The alien in my body."

"Alien?" Tony spoke up.

"Yeah," Eddie said, looking at Tony with wide eyes. "He's in me. Right now. Always. Always talking and he's always hungry and–"

"Eddie, dear. Let's go back to your room," the nurse cut in.

"But- but Riot's gonna get us!"

"No he won't," the nurse said. "You're safe here. He can't hurt you."

"Let me... let me see what Venom thinks," Eddie said, and stepped away. He started muttering to himself. Tony watched him from the table, his drawing long forgotten.

He got up and went to the nurse.

"What's his deal?" he asked her.

"I'm not allowed to discuss the situation of one patient with another," she said.

"Then who's Venom? And this Riot guy?"

"I'm _not allowed_ to discuss it!"

"He said fine!" Eddie announced, coming back over. "But just us. He'll make sure nothing happens."

He opened the door and started off. The nurse squeaked and grabbed Tony. "I can't leave you here by yourself. You've gotta come with us."

"But–" Tony started.

"We'll come straight back here. I promise."

Tony nodded and followed her out. As they walked down the hallway, they passed several rooms. There were windows and there weren't any blinds. He could easily see the rooms' residents.

In one room, he saw a scrawny blond boy sitting on a bed beside a boy with long black hair who was missing an arm. The one armed boy looked up and made eye contact with Tony.

Tony quickly looked away and looked through another window as he passed. Inside was a girl curled up on the bed. All that was visible were her white pants-covered legs, her bare feet, her pale arms, and a mess of short red hair. She was rocking back and forth.

In the next room, Tony saw two more boys. They seemed to be talking animatedly and spastically. The younger had a mess of brown hair, and the older looked like he had been burned, and he had bandages wrapped around both arms.

As he moved further down the hall, there was a room with two more guys, a boy with dark skin who was hunched over on his bed, and another boy who looked sort of lost. He kept snapping his fingers beside his ear, as though he couldn't hear them. Then he sighed and put something—a hearing aid—back in.

One final room and Tony will have enough. 

In this last room, Tony saw a kid not much younger than he; but this kid seemed, to him, to be having a tantrum. He was throwing things around his room and screaming angrily.

Tony had never been this far down this hall. He only ever goes as far as his room, which is at the beginning of the hall, that he shares with James Rhodes, a fellow PTSD sufferer.

"Ms. Carter," Tony spoke suddenly.

The woman looked to him. "Yeah, Tony?"

"I'm gonna go to my room," he said. "I suddenly feel very tired."

"You sure?" the blonde frowned. Tony nodded. "Okay then... I'll see you when it's time for dinner! And if you need anything, you know to–"

"To ask your aunt. I know," Tony said with a grin. He turned, his smile fading, and headed back down the hall to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so everyone knows, in case no one read the fandom list for this, the Peter Parker featured here is Andrew Garfield's. That way no one is weirded out by his interactions with Wade.

Peter had been through a lot in his seventeen years being alive: His parents dying in a plane crash when he was little, his uncle getting shot and killed right in front of him when he was first starting high school, his girlfriend Gwen Stacy falling to her death and he couldn't do anything about it.

It had become too much for the boy. He had moved on from grief and into a pool of depression. His legal guardian—his aunt May—had gotten worried about him and had taken him to see a specialist, who had suggested he stay there at the hospital until everything got better. It had been over a year. Still not better.

But at least he had Wade here to lighten the mood. Wade was his roommate there at the hospital. He talks a lot and makes a lot of crude jokes. And he didn't judge Peter over the little things like other people Peter had met. Plus, he gave him really adorable nicknames.

Peter really liked the older guy. He really did. He couldn't ask for a better roommate.

"Mr. Parker."

Peter looked up from his and Wade's hands (they had been thumb wrestling, since neither of them had been given permission nor access to any of the fun stuff like some of the other patients) and toward the doctor in the doorway.

"It's time for your therapy session," the man said.

Peter nodded and pulled his hand from Wade's. "I'll be back, I guess," the brunet said, pushing himself up from the bed.

"Alrighty, Petey-Pie! I'll be here," Wade said with a grin.

Peter and the doctor left, heading down the hall and toward one of the bigger rooms where therapy sessions took place. As they arrived, the door opened and two people stepped out: a guy who seemed to be a lot older than Peter—near Wade's age, he guessed—and a girl who looked to be around his own age, if not just a smidge older. He and the guy made eye contact for a moment before he entered the room and the guy walked off, the girl following closely behind.

Peter went and sat down in one of the two empty seats in the middle of the room. He jiggled his leg nervously. He always got nervous before these sessions. He always felt like he was annoying the therapist, even though she assured him every time he wasn't.

The therapist walked back into the room and sat in her seat.

"Hello, Peter," she said in her kind voice. The boy looked up from the floor and smiled.

"Hi, ma'am," he said.

"You do know what today is, right?" she asked. "How are you feeling?"

 _What was_ today? Peter thought. Was today something special? A birthday? Was it his birthday? No. No, it wasn't. Wade would've said something. Oh... It suddenly hit him: The anniversary of his Uncle Ben's death, which he had witnessed first hand.

"Oh," he said. "That. I... I hadn't even realized that was today. Wade's kept me distracted all day. I guess I'm feeling fine."

"You guess?" the therapist repeated. "But you don't know."

"I mean, I'm fine! I feel fine! I don't really feel... anything."

"I see." The woman scribbled something on her clipboard.

***

Clint Barton huffed as he reattached his hearing aids in his ears and turned them back on. He flopped back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling and listened to his roommate, Sam Wilson, muttering to himself.

After a while, Clint started to get annoyed again and sat up abruptly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he snapped. "Stop it."

Sam's head snapped up and he looked at Clint. "Sorry," he said. "I can't help it! I'm just trying to figure something out."

"And what is that, exactly?" Clint asked.

"I feel like there's something—nevermind. It's stupid," Sam shook his head.

"No, come on. Tell me."

"It's really really dumb," Sam said.

"I like dumb! Come on, tell me," Clint pouted. "It's got you muttering and I really don't want to turn my hearing aids down in case the nurse comes in."

Sam glanced at him for a long moment, then sighed. "I feel like there's something missing."

Clint stared at him for an awkward, long, quiet moment, then a grin spread across his face and he snorted. "What do you mean?"

"Don't laugh at me!" Sam whined. "I told you it was dumb! And now you're making fun of me. I feel like there's something missing from me."

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. I'm not making fun of you," Clint said quickly, worriedly. "What do you think's missing?"

"Wings..." Sam muttered, looking down, embarrassed. "I have this thing called Phantom Limb. Basically, I feel extra limbs that aren't really there and, for me, that happens to be wings."

"Like an angel?" Clint inquired.

"Or a bird or something."

"Birds are really cool. I like hawks."

"I prefer falcons."

"Nice."

"What about you?" Sam asked. "What's your deal?"

"Nothing important."

"No, come on. I spilled my guts. It's your turn."

"No, seriously. It'll just kill the mood."

"What mood? This is one of the most depressing places there is. The mood is ruined the moment you step foot in here."

"You've got a point there!" Clint chuckled. "Okay, fine. I'm deaf. And it was a very sudden deafness. Kinda... broke me. Made me depressed."

"Oh. That... that sucks. I'm sorry," Sam said.

"It's fine. I just keep hoping that one day my hearing will come back, but that's impossible. So why do I bother?"

"Why haven't we ever talked like this before?" Sam asked after a moment. "We've been roommates for months. Why haven't we done this before?"

"I dunno," Clint shrugged.

Then the nurse walked in.

"Mr. Barton," he said. "It's that time again."


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce flopped on his bed and took deep breaths. _Calm down, calm down, calm down..._ he thought. _Stop being angry. Deep breaths._

He stayed there, laying on the mattress and doing the breathing exercises the doctors had started having him do.

He didn't like how angry he got, and how easy it was to get him angry. When he gets so mad he starts destroying things, he calls himself the "Other Guy" or the "Bigger Guy." He hated that guy. He hated that side of himself. That guy wasn't him. When that guy comes out, the doctors have dubbed it as him "Hulking Out." He hates Hulking out.

"Bruce? Are you ready?"

Bruce looked to the door. Dr. Margaret "Peggy" Carter stood there, clipboard in hand. "Therapy time," she said to him.

Bruce nodded, took a few more deep breaths, then pushed himself up and followed her out of the room and down the hall.

And not long later, he was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair across from Ms. Maria Hill. They were just a few minutes into their session when she jumped off topic. Or was it still on topic but just a different subject?

"I think you're ready for group sessions," she had said.

"Excuse me?" Bruce asked.

"I think you're–"

"No, I heard you the first time. I just... Are you sure? Are you sure I'm ready?"

"Positive. Plus, it might be helpful to get you further on track to release."

"Oh my God. Okay," Bruce nodded quickly. "Who will I be in a group with?"

"Well, I was thinking everyone else in your wing. Just those few. You're already in close proximity so why not just do you guys?" Ms. Hill explained.

"Hang on—Them? The- the PTSD and suicide patients?" Bruce exclaimed.

"Yes. But they're all getting better, same as you. I've already spoken to most of them. They're all a bit shaky about it, but no arguments—well, except for you and one girl. One of the boys was a bit hesitant about it at first, but he met with one of the other girls who will be grouped with you all and he seems fine about it now."

"I... I see..." Bruce looked down for a long moment before nodding. "Okay. Okay. I'll give it a shot."

"Very well then," Ms. Maria smiled. "First group session will be tomorrow."

***

Thor lay curled up on his bed. When he had come back from his session with Doctor Fury, where he had been told he would be starting group sessions tomorrow, Bruce had been gone. And the room had been a mess. He had Hulked out.

To be a good roommate, Thor had cleaned everything up for him.

Now here he was, laying in bed and staring at a crack in the wall. His brother was dead (supposedly), his sister was dead, both parents are dead. It was just him now. And that hurt him, really really bad.

Thor always put on a happy exterior, but his interior was sad and lonely. He had been through a lot. A lot that many do not know or got to experience with him. So they don't know his pain, as much as Fury may say he does.

Footsteps entered his room and he peeked over his shoulder and saw Bruce standing there. He watched as Bruce walked over to his own bed and sat down.

"Thanks," he said in a soft tone. "You didn't have to clean up. But thanks."

Thor shrugged and sat up. "It's okay. I needed something to do." He gave the other male a wide grin.

"Why're you here?" Bruce asked. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you."

Thor shook his head. "I don't like talking about it. Fury has to force it out of me every time."

Bruce nodded. "If you ever want to talk about it, I'm here. Anything to keep my mind away from the Big Guy."

"Okay," Thor said. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Banner."

"Anytime, Thor."

A few moments of silence passed, then Bruce sat up again. "Hey. Are you having to start group sessions tomorrow, too?" he asked.

Thor sat up as well. "Yeah... Why?"

"Me too! Ms. Hill thinks I'm ready."

"Fury said that about me too! Did she tell you who you're with?"

"Everyone in this wing."

"Me too!"

The boys grinned at each other before Bruce awkwardly cleared his throat and looked down.

"I'll uh... I'm tired. I'm gonna..."

"Yeah, me too," Thor said and laid down.


	4. Chapter 4

"Welcome to your first group session," Ms. Maria said to the patients in the circle of chairs around her. "To start today's session, I'd like for you all to introduce yourselves to each other. We'll go around the circle one-by-one, okay? State your names and how you feel today. I'll start." She smiled widely at them. She wasn't about to make the same mistake she had yesterday with Scott Lang and Wanda Maximoff. "I'm Dr. Maria Hill and I feel excited today," then she looked to the boy beside her, nudging his shoulder with her arm. "Mr. Barton. It's your turn."

The dirty blond boy looked up from the floor and looked around the circle. "What? Oh! Uh..." he reached behind his ears and turned his hearing aids on. "Sorry. Umm... what is it?"

There were a few snorts and chuckles from the others in the circle.

"State your name and how you're feeling," Ms. Hill said.

"Oh. Okay. Um... I'm Clinton Barton. Just call me Clint," Clint said. "And... I'm feeling a little embarrassed I forgot to turn my hearing aids back on."

"You're deaf?" someone—Wade Wilson—asked, to which Clint nodded. "Cool! I know a lady who's blind. Her name's Al. I lived with her until I ended up here. Isn't blindness basically eye-deafness?"

"I... guess? I never thought about it that way," Clint said. Wade beamed and leaned back in his chair.

"Alright... Next," Ms. Maria Hill said, looking to the boy wearing long sleeves who was sitting beside Clint.

The boy smiled and waved around the circle. "Hi, I'm Scott Lang," he said, "and I'm feeling great! Excited to meet everyone."

"Thank you, Scott, for not being insensitive this time," Ms. Maria said.

"Thank you for being specific this time," Scott beamed innocently.

"Ms. Maximoff, your turn," Ms. Maria said simply.

"I'm Wanda," the girl beside Scott said. "I guess I'm feeling fine right now?"

"You guess?" Ms. Maria said. "Do you not know how you're feeling?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Wanda said. "Not yet. Not right now."

"Wanda, please explain."

"I said no!" Wanda shouted.

Everyone fell silent. After a short moment, Scott patted the girl's bony shoulder and said in a soft yet serious tone, "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. There's a law for that. The fifth amendment if I remember correctly."

"I plead the fifth," a black boy (man?) from across the circle said with a nod. "You're correct. You say that in court if you don't want to speak."

"People, people," Ms. Maria said. "We're getting off topic here! Wanda, if you don't wish to speak, you don't have to."

Wanda nodded firmly.

"What's up?" the guy beside Wanda spoke up. "I'm Tony. And I'm really tired right now."

"Aren't we all?" Clint mumbled.

"Hi, I'm... I'm Bruce Banner," the next kid said. "And I'm okay."

"I'm Sam Wilson," introduced the next, a brown-skinned male. "And how I'm feeling is no one's business."

Ms. Maria simply nodded and wrote everything on her clipboard.

"I'm James Barnes," said the next. "But everyone just calls me Bucky. Even when I don't want them to." Then he fell silent.

"And how are you feeling today, Mr. Barnes?" Ms. Maria asked, leaning forward in her seat to look at the male.

"I'm fine, I guess. You know, considering," Bucky said, and gestured to the empty air where an arm should have been. Then he playfully punched the thin, limber arm of the small kid beside him.

"Your turn, punk," the brunet said to the blond.

"Shut up," the boy said, then he turned his gaze back to the others. "I'm Steve. And I'm just as peachy as ever." He didn't sound very "peachy."

"I'm James Rhodes," said the black guy beside Steve. "I'm feeling okay. A bit worried for my friend Tony over there."

"Shut up, Platypus," Tony said, a laugh in his voice.

"Make me, shorty."

"Why are you worried about Mr. Stark, James?" Ms. Maria asked.

"It's just a running joke, ma'am," James Rhodes explained. "Between the two of us."

"I see," Ms. Maria said with a nod and wrote something else down on her clipboard. Then she looked up again. "Next?"

"Hi! I'm Peter Benjamin Parker," said a kid that was younger than everyone else there. "And I'm doing a lot better today than I was yesterday."

"That's great to hear, Peter," Ms. Maria said with a kind smile.

"Thanks, Ms. Hill," the boy said with a sheepish smile.

"What's up, sluts? I'm Wade. Wade Wilson," said the older guy beside Peter. Peter slapped the guy's—Wade—chest at the same time a red headed girl a little further down the circle made a noise of either annoyance or distress.

"Wade stop. We talked about this," Peter said.

"Sorry, sweetcheeks. Just tryin' to make an impression of myself," Wade said.

"Well don't do it like that," Peter and Ms. Maria said at the same time.

"Sorry, sorry," Wade said. Then he grinned. "Now! How am I feeling today? Well, right now I'm feeling very horny."

"Mr. Wilson!" Ms. Maria exclaimed furiously. "We do not talk like that here!"

"You may not, but I do," Wade said with a wink and gave the woman finger guns. Ms. Maria puffed her cheeks, annoyed then told the next person to go.

"I'm Thor." The guy was bigger than the others. And his blond hair was a mess, as though he hadn't brushed it in years. He had a wide smile on his face. "I'm feeling great today, too! I love meeting new people."

"Nice enthusiasm, man," Sam said, giving the blond a thumbs up.

"Hi everyone. I'm Natasha," the red headed female beside Thor said, waving at everyone. She had a dead look in her eyes, as though she hadn't really been alive in years. Yet here she was, breathing and moving. "That's all I really want to say..."

"No. No. I won't let you speak," the boy beside Natasha was mumbling to himself. "Why not? Because I said so! You'll scare them!"

"Who's he talking to?" Wade inquired, leaning over to get a better look at the mumbling boy.

"I think he's schizophrenic, Wade," Peter concluded.

"What was that?" the boy said, furious. He had jumped to his feet. "I'm not– I'm not schizophrenic! I'm not!"

Ms. Maria shot to her feet and placed her hands on the boy's shoulders, easing him back into his seat.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the boy kept whispering to himself (or whatever was in his head) over and over. "I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

"Eddie, sweetie," Ms. Maria said. "I need you to stop talking to your friend and introduce yourself to the group, okay?"

The boy—Eddie—nodded quickly and Ms. Maria went and sat back in her seat.

"Name and how you're feeling, Eddie," the woman said.

"I'm Eddie Brock, and my friend is Venom. I'm feeling very very annoyed right now because he won't SHUT UP!" Eddie said.

A few of the people flinched when Eddie yelled.

Ms. Maria sighed and looked down at her clipboard again and wrote something down. "This is going to be interesting..." she mumbled.

***

Natasha curled in on herself more, her whole body shaking. She began to whisper (more of a stage whisper, really) 'no, no' over and over again. "Stop," she begged a little louder.

Wanda sat up in her bed and looked across the room at the red head. "Natasha?" she called out in a small voice.

Then Natasha started to sob, loudly.

Wanda threw the sheets from her body and darted across the room and knelt beside the other girl's bed. She hesitated before placing a hand on the girl's arm.

The red head looked so small, curled up and shaking like this.

At the touch Natasha stopped shaking, giving just a simple flinch.

"Stop, stop... Please," she whispered.

"Stop what?" Wanda asked.

Natasha's eyes snapped open and she sat up, scooting away from the other girl.

"Natasha, please," Wanda said in a pleading, worried tone. "What were you talking about?"

Natasha shook her head and wiped away the tears from her face. "I'm fine," she said.

"No you're not," Wanda said, and moved to sit beside her. "We've been rooming together for weeks. I learned your name for the first time earlier today. And this is the first time this has happened, as far as I know."

Natasha was silent for a while longer. Then she finally spoke. "Promise not to tell anyone?"

Wanda nodded quickly. "I promise," she said, and turned to give Natasha her full attention.

"Okay, well... I haven't told anyone this," Natasha said. "For years, I was kept in this place... they called it the 'Red Room.' They abused me, sexually. They would constantly send men to my room to fuck me, even after I was worn too sore to do anything... I guess they did something wrong—or, I would say right—because once they got rid of me and I ended up here, they did a few tests and turns out something happened and I can't get pregnant."

She took a deep, shaky breath. "Sometimes, at night, when I'm trying to get to sleep... I can still feel their hands on me. And I can still feel them in me sometimes, too."

Wanda was silent. She was staring at the other girl.

"Wanda," Natasha said. "Say something. Please."

"I'm so so sorry," Wanda said.

"Don't give me that shit," Natasha said. "Anything than that."

Then Wanda's arms were around her in a tight hug.


	5. Chapter 5

Nights were always the worst for James Rhodes's best friend and roommate Tony.

Whenever Tony went to sleep Rhodey waited, counting away the seconds before the younger started whimpering, whining, crying. Rhodey would always be there to comfort him and assure him he was okay. But Tony would never tell him what exactly was wrong, so how could he be sure everything _was_ okay?

And tonight was pretty bad. The whimpering started and Rhodey was up and crawling over to the other side of the room to calm Tony. Rhodey went through the normal routine the two had come up with. Only, it didn't seem to be working tonight. Then, Tony started sobbing in his sleep. It only made Rhodey more anxious to get him awake.

After a lot of shaking and light smacks on the cheeks, Tony was awake and clinging to the other male, sobbing hard. Rhodey rubbed small, gentle circles into the younger's back.

A while later, Tony's breathing was back to normal and his tears had stopped flowing. He still clung to the boy, though.

"Rhodey. Rhodey," he said after a moment. "Your legs. You didn't run over did you? You can't walk, your paralysis!"

"Tones, I'm fine," Rhodey assured. "I promise. I crawled over."

"No, no," the younger pushed off him and looked up. "No. You can't keep doing that for me. You're going to hurt yourself."

"I'd take a fucking bullet for you, man," Rhodey said in a dead serious tone.

"Please don't," Tony said in a small voice. "I don't want that on my conscience."

"Then tell me what's going on. Why do you keep getting like this at night?"

"No. No. I can't tell you," Tony shook his head quickly. "He made me promise."

"He? Who's 'he'?" Rhodey asked, sounding very distressed. Tony simply shook his head again, and Rhodey grabbed his shoulders. "You gotta talk to me. What happened?"

Tears welled up in Tony's eyes again and he bowed his head. "Re- remember that guy that worked with my dad? Obadiah?"

"Yeah... Did he do something?" Rhodey's hands dropped from Tony's arms.

"Yeah. He's part of the reason... he's part of the reason nights are so hard for me." Tony looked up at the older male.

"What did he do to you? Did he hit you?" Rhodey's expression went from stern to concern and worry.

"Only... only when I didn't obey him and- and didn't let him–" A choked sob from within his throat cut Tony's explanation short.

"Didn't let him what?" Rhodey scooted himself to sit behind the smaller male, and pulled him close to his chest. "Come on, Tones. Talk to me."

Tony sobbed against the other male's chest, shaking his head quickly. "No. No..."

"It's only gonna get worse if you don't talk about it," Rhodey stated. "So, come on. What's wrong? What did that asshole do to you?"

"He- He-" Tony swallowed down another sob.

Rhodey pulled him closer and rubbed soft circles into his back. "Just breathe. Breathe through it. You're okay," he kept saying. "He's not here. He can't hurt you anymore."

After a moment, Tony's breathing slowed back to normal and he stopped crying. Rhodey assumed he had just fallen back asleep until the smaller male spoke up:

"He raped me."

And those three words made Rhodey's heart drop into his stomach.

***

Steve Rogers peeked across the room at his best friend since childhood, James "Bucky" Barnes. The dark haired male was sound asleep, the sound of his breathing the only noise the blond could hear, besides the shuffling of feet and muffled voices outside the door.

He slipped out of his bed and made his way over to the bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure he hadn't awoken Bucky. When he saw that other other male wasn't moving he slipped into the bathroom and shut the door, turning on the light and looking at the mirror. He made his way closer to the sink and frowned at his reflection. He could only see mid-torso and up. He looked at the floor and his gaze landed on the step stool they had somehow acquired and paused before moving it over to the sink and stepping up onto it. Now he could see more of himself.

He tugged his shirt over his head and let the fabric drop to the ground and he frowned even more at his reflection. Still the same scrawny, not-muscular body reflecting in the mirror. He hated that body.

He looked down at the thin arms connected to his bone-thin torso and sniffed, unimpressed.

He hated those arms and that torso. He was sure he would never be as muscular and built like his best friend who was asleep in one of the beds just outside that door.

The doctors and nurses and his therapist told him he had to stop comparing himself to the other guys he meets, but he says that it's impossible when he looks the way he does. Bucky had tried to explain multiple times that that was why Steve ended up in a lot of fights, that he tried to show that he can be better. But then Bucky always swooped in to save the day when Steve was getting his ass beat.

The blond looked away from the mirror and stepped off of the stool and kicked it away. He bent down to get his shirt and slowly pulled it back on before heading back out of the bathroom, shutting off the light, and crawled back into his bed.

He was never going to look the way imagined himself to, was he?

Probably not...


	6. Chapter 6

Wade Wilson was a man of many experiences and stories. He tries his hardest to keep the light in every situation he can, but that doesn't mean he himself is not all that light and colourful.

Wade's entire life changed when he met the perfect girl for him. But then something happened and it changed his life again, and his outer appearance changed when he was diagnosed with cancer and tricked into going to an experimentation lab to help with finding a cure. He was abused and taken advantage of there. And that's how he got the outer appearance of looking severely burned.

His girl—Vanessa—never left his side when he got back from the experiments. They were happy together. If Wade were asked to describe it, he would call it a faerietale come true. And it seemed like it! That is... until Vanessa was killed.

After that, Wade's life went downward spiral and he fell into a deep depression. He started doing drugs and drinking a lot more and tried to kill himself more times than he can count. And all those tries ended up failing. He almost succeeded the last time, but the old blind woman he was living with named Al called 911 when she smelled the blood and it ended up saving him.

That sent him to the hospital, away from all of his friends and Al. Away from the memories of Vanessa dying in his arms. But sometimes he could still feel her weight against him... could still feel her warm blood on his hands. He tried his hardest to scrub it all away. But he could still see it at times. He would scrub his hands raw. It worried everyone. The doctors took away anything he could harm himself with.

Then along came Peter. Wade was drawn to Peter the moment he moved into his room, which they now share. Peter was this little fifteen year old kid when he first moved in. And Wade was suddenly ready to turn it all around for this kid.

"I don't want you to be alone," Wade had said to Peter when asked why he only talked to him. And Wade has been inseparable from Peter since. Unless it's therapy time. Well, that was until the group session became a thing. Now they're together all day!

Wade couldn't get himself to fall asleep. He kept thinking about Al. The sassy old woman hadn't visited him in a while. He was worried about her. The woman was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, sure; she had a gun and knew how to fight. But she was also old and blind.

Wade shook his head and rolled over onto his side. Al's fine, he told himself. Don't worry about her. Worry about Peter. He snuggled into his pillow and curled up. He listened to the voices outside and the sounds of IVs and beds and wheelchairs being rolled down the hall. He then toned those noises out and listened for Peter's breathing, to make sure he was okay.

He heard a soft sigh and smiled. Petey's fine.

***

Apparently Eddie Brock isn't allowed to sleep.

Doctors are constantly coming in to check on him and make sure he takes his medicine, to check on his roommate Scott Lang, and Venom constantly talks to him all through the night.

He isn't exactly sure when Venom first appeared to him... He's been there for the last ten months Eddie's been in the hospital, and a month before he ended up in the hospital.

Eddie wasn't sure why he was in the hospital. He was just acting as a host body for an alien and trying to keep the both of them safe from Venom's revenge-hungry kid Riot. Anne Weying, Eddie's ex-girlfriend, and her boyfriend Dan Lewis were the ones to call the hospital once they thought that Venom was getting to be too much for Eddie. (At least that's what they told him.)

At least here, he met someone else who used to live in San Francisco—his roommate Scott Lang. The two never spoke to each other; they tried at first, when they first met, but nothing really kicked off for them. Eddie thinks that Venom kind of intimidated Scott. So they never really tried to talk again.

Venom has been kind of overwhelming lately… he won't leave Eddie alone, and he constantly wants to interact with everyone Eddie meets. He always asks in they could eat the people they meet…

Eddie only did that once. Anne didn't know. Dan didn't know.

But Mrs. Chen, the small woman who ran Eddie and Venom’s favourite store, knew. She was there to see it. She was the one Eddie and Venom had saved by eating the person.

Eddie actually enjoyed it a little… but he swore to never do it again. They had scared Mrs. Chen.

Eddie didn't want to scare anyone anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

Wanda looked up from her breakfast tray as she heard a knock on the door to her room. She huffed a little when she saw who it was and pushed her tray away. “What do you want?” she asked harshly.

“Whoa. Someone’s angry,” Scott said. “What's got you riled up?” He stepped into the room and went over and sat on the foot of Wanda’s bed.

Wanda sighed and looked down at her sheets and began to play with them. “Nothing,” she said. “It is stupid.”

“Is it that time of the month?” Scott asked riskily.

Wanda’s head snapped up and she looked furious. “No! It's not that! Whenever a girl is upset it doesn't automatically mean she's on her period!”

Scott held his hands up quickly. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn't know! I'm sorry.”

“Don't say anything like that ever again,” Wanda said in a threatening tone. “Ever. Do you understand?”

Scott nodded quickly. “Yeah. Understood.” He looked at her again, a worried expression on his face.

“Really, though,” he said. “Do you wanna talk? It's supposed to help.”

Wanda huffed and looked down at her frail hands. “They keep trying to get me to eat.”

“So why don't you? I know hospital food’s pretty much crap, but it's healthy.”

“Scott, you don't know, do you?” Wanda looked up at the man.

“Not really, no,” he admitted.

“Look at me.”

Scott did so. “I don't know what I'm supposed to–” Wanda cut him off.

“Scott, I'm anorexic!”

Scott stared at her, eyes wide. “I- You're-”

“Great,” Wanda grumbled. “You're gonna pity me, aren't you?”

“Wanda no.” Scott scooted closer to her and took one of her hands in his own. “I'm not gonna pity you. I don't do that shit.”

“Then you're scared?”

“I'm not scared, either.”

“Then what are you—”

Scott’s arms were suddenly around her in a tight hug. Wanda sat there, frozen, staring at the wall on Natasha Romanoff’s side of the room. The girl was out doing activities with others, so Wanda had been by herself until Scott arrived. She slowly brought her arms up to return the hug and closed her eyes, burying her face in the crook of his neck. His body was warm and she could hear his breathing.

“Wanda, is that all?” he asked suddenly, disrupting the nice silence.

Wanda pushed away and looked up at him. “Is what all?”

“Why you're here,” Scott explained. “Is that the only reason you're here?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

“Because I care,” Scott replied. “And you're a wonderful girl. I can tell. And you don't deserve any of this.”

“We've only known each other for two days, Scott. You know nothing else about me.”

“So? You're becoming a good friend to me. And I'm great at profiling people! My old parole officer told me that.”

“Parole officer?” Wanda echoed. “You've been arrested?”

“Uh… yeah… A few times, actually.” Scott looked a bit embarrassed to have revealed that.

Wanda took notice of his expression and her own changed to one of worry. “Was I not supposed to know that?”

“No no,” Scott sighed and shook his head. “It's public knowledge. Newspapers and such.”

Wanda nodded. The two sat there for a moment, not saying anything to each other again. Then she broke it by saying, “To answer your question: No. Anorexia is not my only reason. I have PTSD, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts.”

Why was it so easy to talk to Scott all of a sudden? A man, who two days ago, was a stranger.

Maybe it was how open he seemed? Or how he just spoke his mind? Or how concerned and brotherly he was?

“PTSD?” Scott said. “What happened?”

“My twin brother, Pietro, was killed. Along with the rest of my family,” Wanda explained, looking down. “Pietro and I came into this world together. I thought we would leave it the same way… I was wrong.” She could feel the tears coming, her eyes stinging. She blinked them away. No. No crying, Wanda.

“I'm so sorry, Wanda.”

“It isn't your fault,” Wanda shook her head and looked up again.

“But I feel bad… No one should have to go through that,” Scott said.

“Life’s a bully,” Wanda shrugged. “You just have to learn to live with it.” Her tone made it sound like she had learned to live with it, but her eyes told a different story. Her eyes told everything: She hadn't learned to live with it. She still wasn't over it.

“How old were you?” Scott asked.

“We were twelve.”

“How old are you now?”

“Seventeen.”

Five years Wanda had been separated gruesomely from her other half. Five years she had been a mere part of a whole. Five years she had been alone…

Scott knew he couldn't let her keep going on like this.

“Get up,” he said suddenly.

“What?” Wanda raised her eyebrows.

“Get up,” Scott repeated with a little more energy. “This shit’s depressing. We're going out and you are going to have fun. So get out of that bed.” He stood up and started hitting the sheets like an impatient child.

Still a bit confused, Wanda obeyed and got out of bed. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slowly-growing relationship between these two is my favourite thing to write.


	8. Chapter 8

“Scott, where are we going?” Wanda asked, stumbling along behind the man as he pulled her along down the hall behind him.

“Somewhere we can have fun, Wanda!” the man said, then peeked around a corner. “We just gotta get some clothes first.”

“Wait, are we leaving the hospital?” Wanda’s eyes widened. “We can't do that!”

“Who says?” Scott pouted, turning to look at her.

“The employees here? Legal officials?”

“That's no fun.”

“But what you wanna do could get us in trouble!”

“Not if we don't get caught,” Scott pointed out. “Which is precisely why we're getting clothes.”

“If we do get caught, I was forced into this against my will,” Wanda said.

“Eh, what else is new?”

Scott walked into the laundry room and started digging through baskets. Wanda followed him in and wrinkled her nose.

“Those are dirty,” she said.

“It's what we got,” Scott said simply and tossed a shirt and a pair of shorts at her.

She caught the clothing items and wrinkled her nose again. “Why can’t we use what’s in the washer?”

“Because they’ll notice those are gone.”

Scott took his shirt off and pulled the new one on. Wanda stared at him as he did this. He glanced over at her and raised his eyebrows.

“You not gonna change?” he questioned.

“No. Not in front of you! Jesus Christ,” Wanda said, shaking her head quickly.

“I won’t look! I’m not a perv,” Scott said, and turned away from her to prove it, even covering his eyes with one hand.

Wanda quickly changed and then cleared her throat to let him know he could turn back around. And he did so.

“Great! Ready?”

Wanda nodded. “I guess so.”

“Awesome. Let's go.”

And Scott led her out of the laundry room and together they snuck down the hall and toward the doors of the hospital. Whenever they had to pass around a corner, Scott would stop and peek around first before continuing on. It happened so much that Wanda started to get a bit ticked off until they reached the doors.

Then they ran.


	9. Chapter 9

On May 26, Carol Danvers woke up in an ICU. She couldn't remember anything. She didn't know who she was, where she was, how she got there, or the name of her cat. She didn't even know she had a cat.

All she knew was her whole body was sore, she felt hot, her memory was fuzzy, and she needed to get out.

There was a tube in her nose and it tickled as she took it out. When she sat up, she noticed wires and tubes connected to her body. She removed those as well. She heard a long, pitched beeeeeeeeeep after she removed the sticker and cable from her chest. She quickly removed the needle that was in her hand and then made a run for the door.

She was almost all the way down the hall when she was grabbed and held back by someone—a man.

“Let go of me!” Carol screamed. “Let me go! Let me go!” She twisted and kicked and pulled but the man wouldn't let go.

Then she bit him. Hard. That made him let go.

“Goddamn! Motherfucker!” the man exclaimed, clutching his hand. He watched as Carol made for an escape.

Then he ran for the desks and pressed the lockdown button. Sirens started wailing, lights started flashing, and the doors locked.

Carol tugged and pushed at the doors, trying to get them open. All they did was rattle and shake against her attempts.

“Let me out!” she screamed at the doors. “Let me out! Let me out! Letmeoutletmeouetmeout!”

They did not let her out.

Instead, security grabbed her and Nurse Coulson ran over and injected a sedative into her neck.

Carol struggled against the people holding her back, gradually slowing and tiring out. Then her eyes fluttered shut and she slumped over, the sedative taking effect.

***

The next time Carol awoke, she was back in the room she had first woken up. But this time, there was a cluster of about four patients in the doorway. She sat up suddenly and ignored the tug of wires on her chest.

“Who are you?” she asked, suspicious.

“Welcome to the Avengers Wing,” the girl at the front of the cluster said. She was slender, had short red hair, and an accent Carol couldn't quite place.

“What’s your name?” a boy beside the red-haired girl asked. He was only a smidge taller than her, and had blond hair.

Carol thought over his question, searching her mind and memory for an answer… but came up with nothing. She shook her head.

“I don't get it,” the boy said, quirking an eyebrow. “Why is she saying no?”

Carol suddenly looked worried, unable to answer either question.

Who is she?

Where is she?

Why can't she remember her name?

“Clint,” the red-haired girl said. “I don't think she knows her name…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kinda short, I'm sorry. I just wanted to get an update out. 
> 
> Please comment!


	10. Chapter 10

Peter sat in the cafeteria, staring at the tray in front of him, picking at his food tiredly.

The nightmares had returned. And they were still really bad.

Uncle Ben, laying there bleeding out and Peter can't fucking save him! He never can… and he never did… He just sat there sobbing, watching the life drain from his uncle’s eyes…

Everyone tells him it isn't his fault Ben died. Sure, he was fifteen at the time, but he should've done something. He should've tried to save Uncle Ben. He should've! But he didn't. He sat there like a baby, crying instead of running to get a phone and call 911.

It’s his fault his only father figure ever was gone. Right? Despite what everyone was saying, it is his fault.

“Peter.”

He wasn't paying attention, he was stuck in his own depressed thoughts.

“PETER!”

The shout right by his ear forced him out of his mind. He looked to see who it was that had yelled. Of course it was Wade.

“What?” Peter said, then looked away from Wade.

“You’re acting weird again,” the bandaged man said, flopping into the seat across from the brunet. “What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Nothing,” Peter lied.

“Come on, Petey,” Wade frowned and spread his arms. “You can talk to me! I don't judge.”

Peter stayed silent, then shovelled some of his food into his mouth.

Wade’s frown deepened. “Pete, come on. Please. I just wanna make sure you're okay.”

“I’m fine, Wade,” Peter said in a quiet voice. “I’ve just been thinking about stuff.”

“Like what?” Wade inquired, raising a nonexistent eyebrow.

“Stupid stuff,” Peter replied. “That’s all.”

“You sure?”

Peter nodded in response and stared at his tray for a long time. Wade started to get worried again until the boy spoke up:

“Wanna go play a game in the room?”

A big grin spread across Wade’s face and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. “Let’s go.”

***

Tony was about to leave the bathroom when it happened. When it felt like his chest was tightening around his heart and lungs. When it felt like it was getting harder to breathe. When he thought he heard him outside the door, waiting for him like he used to.

He fell to his knees then slid back and pushed himself to the far wall and started to breathe quick and fast.

He felt smaller than ever, waiting for him to open the door and force him out and make him take him in his whole once again.

He waited for who knows how long before he started crying. The man never came in.

A few minutes later, the door opened and there stood Rhodes, looking worried. “Tones?” the dark skinned man said, his voice laced with concern. Then he saw the state his small friend was in and he rushed over.

“Tony! What happened, what's wrong?”

Tony tried to speak, but all that came out were stutters and sobs. Then he just opted for holding his arms out to his friend.

Rhodes pulled him close and held him. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay. Just breathe and tell me when you're ready.”

And the men stayed there on the floor of the bathroom in that position until the nurses came to inform them it was time for dinner. 


	11. Chapter 11

Carol stared at the floor, fingering the white hospital bracelet around her left wrist. She knew her name now– the man she had bitten apparently knew her from somewhere. Her name is Carol Susan Jane Danvers. The man—Doctor Fury—told her that almost three months ago.

Carol’s blonde hair was chopped off in a sort of fauxhawk. Her skin felt sickly hot, almost a feverish burning, but she wasn't sick. Some of the doctors said it was left over from “the accident.” She didn't know what accident they were talking about. She didn't remember any accidents. She didn't remember anything from before waking up that May afternoon. 

She didn't look up when she heard the door open and the sound of multiple footsteps heading over to the circle of chairs she was sitting at. She didn't look up at the sound of the voices. She didn't look up or say a word when anyone tried to talk to her. 

She stayed zoned out of the conversation, not paying attention to anyone until the woman sitting at the front of the circle—Doctor Hill—made her introduce herself. 

“Hey,” the blonde woman said. “I’m Carol. I learned that about… two months ago. Almost three?”

“Welcome to the group, Carol,” Hill said. “We’re pleased to have you join us, isn't that right?”

There was only a mumbled response from the group. 

“Likewise,” Carol mumbled. 

“Carol, would you please introduce yourself to the group?” Dr. Hill asked.

Carol sighed and uncrossed her legs and stood up, looking at the group around her, taking in their appearances–

There was the red haired girl who had welcomed her to the “Avengers Wing.” She seemed less pale than before, and Carol noticed how she glanced around the room warily. 

Beside the red haired girl was the blond boy. He kept fiddling with something behind his ears– hearing aids, she thought. 

Beside him was another boy. He was black, and was hunched over as though making room behind him for something that wasn't there. He looked almost disappointed. 

In the seat next to him was seated another male. His facial expressions kept changing, as though he were having a conversation with someone inside his head. He looked tired, and sweaty…

Next came a small male. Thin and scrawny. He swung his legs almost sadly. He ran his fingers through his blond hair and sighed. 

Seated directly beside the scrawny blond was a scary-looking male with one arm. He looked tired and anxious yet he also looked as though he could rip anyone apart should they tempt him. 

In the next seat was a sad-looking brown-haired boy. He looked to be lost in his thoughts until the hairless man beside him nudged his arm with a heavily-bandaged hand. 

The hairless man had a wide grin on his face, which was a blatant contrast to the expression he must have had when whatever it was that resulted in the bandages on his arms happened. 

Next came a small man who looked to be near passing out. His eyes were slowly blinking, like he was trying to keep them from closing for good and causing him to fall asleep and never wake up again. 

Beside him was a black man who kept giving him worried looks. The man had splints on his legs. Paralysis. 

The next two men were a silent duo. The blond had a wide smile on his face, but it was obvious it was fake. The male beside him kept doing breathing exercises. Curious...

A small, thin girl came next. Her ginger hair was frizzy, like she hadn't brushed it in a few days. She kept looking to the boy—man?—beside her, like she was checking in on him. 

Said man-boy kept twiddling his thumbs, jiggling his legs, and playing with the long sleeves of his shirt. She wondered—

“Carol.”

Doctor Hill’s voice cut through her thoughts. 

“I’m sorry?” Carol spoke. 

“Introduce yourself,” Maria Hill said. 

Carol nodded and looked at the group again. “I’m Carol—apparently.” She waved slightly. “I don't remember anything before waking up here…”

“Welcome, Carol,” Maria said, looking up from her clipboard. “We’re glad you're joining us.”

“Thanks,” Carol said. Then she sat back down and stared at her hospital band again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment. It makes my day and let's me know you're actually reading this and are enjoying it.


	12. Chapter 12

Wanda saw Scott sitting in the grass in the hospital yard one day. It was hot out, seeing that it was summer, yet he still was wearing a long-sleeved shirt like always.

He was just sitting there, picking at the grass, lost in his thoughts it seemed.

Wanda frowned a little and made her way over to him. She stopped in front of him and peered down at him.

“Hi,” she said softly. He looked up at her and gave her a grin.

“Hey, Wands,” he said.

“Mind if I sit with you?” she asked.

He shook his head and gestured. “Go right ahead.”

Wanda sat beside him, and they both stayed silent for a long moment. Then she spoke up:

“I have a question,” she said.

Scott glanced at her. “Uh huh…” he said slowly. “And what would that be?”

“Why do you always wear long sleeves?” Wanda asked. “Like, I get it's one of the outfit pieces you can request, but why did you choose to always have sleeves?”

Scott was silent and frozen for a long moment.

“Scott, I’m just curious,” Wanda said. “And I told you what's wrong with me so it's your turn.”

The man shook his head. “Please, no,” he said.

“Just tell me,” Wanda pleaded. “I won't tell anyone.”

Scott still relented, and Wanda still pushed. God, she was starting to get annoying.

Then he wheeled on her, jumping up so he was looming over her. “SHUT THE FUCK UP! OR I’LL MAKE YOU!” he shouted.

She shrunk back. “I’m sor–”

“What's going on over here?” A member of the hospital security had come over. “Did he hurt you?”

Scott’s expression changed from furious and annoyed to terrified and scared. Was this man going to take him away? Lock him away again?

“No, no sir,” Wanda said quickly. “No he didn't. Just scared me.”

The officer gave Scott a look and glanced him over, hand still at his belt.

“We're okay,” Wanda assured the man.

He hesitantly nodded and returned to his post by the door.

Once he was gone, Scott sighed and looked to Wanda once again.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he said, “but I just… I don't like talking about it.”

“I’m sorry for trying to pry,” Wanda replied.

“It's fine,” Scott shook his head and sighed. “I just don't wanna talk about it right now.” He sat back down in the grass beside her.

“Okay,” Wanda nodded. “But I’ll be here when you're ready.” She looked away from him, straight ahead at nothing at all.

He sighed and leaned his head against her shoulder. “Thanks.”

And they sat there like that in silence until everyone was called back inside.

***

Wanda was lying in her bed, trying to fall asleep when he arrived in her doorway.

“Wands?” he whisper-called, seeing that Natasha was already sound asleep.

Wanda sat up and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“I can't sleep… Nightmares and Eddie and ‘Venom’.”

“Oh, that's bad…” She looked down at the sheets. Then back up at him. “Wanna sleep in here?”

“If that's okay with you?” Scott replied.

“It’s fine with me,” she assured him, then scooted over a little on the bed and patted the spot beside her.

“You're okay with that?” he inquired.

“We've known each other for months now,” she replied. “Of course I’m fine with it.”

“Okay then…” He hurried over and climbed into the bed beside her, laying on the sheets instead of snuggling under them.

Wanda frowned and looked at him. “You're going to get cold,” she said.

“I’ll be okay.”

“No,” Wanda shook her head. “Get under the covers. Now. I don't want you to freeze.”

“Wand, I’ll be–”

“Under. Now.”

Scott sighed. “Okay, okay. If you insist.”

He got under the covers and snuggled in, getting comfortable. Well, as comfortable one can be in a hospital bed you're sharing with someone.

The two lied there in silence for a while, and it was getting to be a tad awkward.

So then they started to talk with each other, playing a small game of 20 Questions.

Eventually Scott dozed off, Wanda still wide awake. She started to wonder about absolute nothings… Until Scott rolled in his sleep and his arm ended up across her stomach.

Her breathing hitched, and she stared at the arm. The long-sleeve-covered arm… Her curiosity started to rise again. Should she– No, no, no. He said he would tell her when he was ready. But what if he keeps putting it off? Just look.

So she did.

She carefully sat up, and his hand fell into her lap. Gently, she took his hand in one of her own and turned his arm over so his forearm was facing up at her, then she pulled the sleeve back slowly. And there they were.

A collection of scars trailing up and down his arm, some fresher than others. Most horizontal while only a few were vertical…

Wanda choked back a gasping-sob.

No. Not Scott Lang. Not this giddy, gullible, happy man who was starting to be like a big brother to her.

He had told her when they first met that he had tried to kill himself, but she had not imagined this. Nothing like this. Not this…

She tugged the sleeve back down and scooted back to laying down and turned to face the sleeping man beside her. She bit her lip in worry, then leaned up and kissed his forehead. She pulled back, closed her eyes, and snuggled into his front, letting the tears slide down her face.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Birdy_f, this chapter happened because of your amazing request and idea. Thank you!

Rooftops always have the best view of the horizon and cityscapes. Don't you agree?

That's also where Peter found himself one August evening. It wasn't quite time for the group session, and he had managed to sneak away from everyone. He was getting bad again. The depression and anxiety were getting worse. He had been getting better, everyone thought. But apparently… not.

Peter looked at the ledge and hesitated a moment before sitting and swinging his legs over. He stared down at the streets below and took a deep breath. Maybe, just maybe….

No.

He can't do that. It would affect May and Wade and the others too much.

But the nightmares, the anxiety, the depression, the memories…

There is such a thing as suppression, Peter.

“Mr. Parker!”

Peter jerked his head around to see who it was. Nurse Sharon Carter.

“What on earth are you doing over there?” She hurried over to him and pulled him back over to the other side of the ledge.

“I’m sorry, ma’am! I’m so sorry!” Peter cried. “I just had to get away! I wasn't going to do anything!”

“That doesn't matter!” Sharon scolded.

She pulled him into the building and took him to his room.

***

Three days passed. The thought of going to the roof was starting to dwindle down….

Until Wade did it. The bastard fucking did it again.

He’d managed to sneak a plastic fork out of the cafeteria during lunch and he'd hidden in the bathroom and broke the prongs off until there was only one left.

And he'd cut himself.

Peter hād walked into the room looking for the older man. He looked around and didn't see him. Then he walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

“Wade?” he called through the wood. “Are you in there?»

He tried the knob and it opened. And there was Wade, sitting against the shower, bloody armed.

Peter choked on his breath and everything came flooding back. The deaths he couldn't stop, the fates that were out of his hands…

He started sobbing. Why is it that everyone he gets close to gets hurt in some way?

***

Group sessions were oddly quiet without Wade. Everyone noticed it. And everyone noticed how quiet Peter had been the last few days.

There was a scary tension in the atmosphere while everyone filed in and took their seats.

It was all going fine and dandy until Ms. Maria Hill explained what they were going to do that day. When she started talking, Peter stood up abruptly and hurried out of the room.

“Mr. Parker?” Maria called out. “Mr. Parker! Get back here!”

She stood and followed him out.

Everyone else looked at each other and followed the two out of the room.

Maria searched for the teenager and called for security. The group from the Avengers Wing went looking for him as well. When they came up empty-handed, they realised they had one place left to check:

The roof.

***

When Maria and the others reached the roof, Peter was standing on the ledge. He was staring at the streets below.

Someone pushed passed the group crowding the entrance to the roof and froze. Wade.

“No…” he whispered. “No no no no no no no… Petey... “

“Mr. Wilson, please stand back,” Maria said. Wade looked at her with wild, terrified eyes.

“I can’t do that!” he exclaimed. “I can’t!”

“Yes, you can!” Maria said back. “Now stand back.”

Peter had not moved once during this. He just continued to stand and stare.

Maria started to cautiously make her way over to Peter, as though any sudden movement would set him off and cause him to hurt her or himself. She stayed as quiet as she could, and she could feel the anxiety radiating off the group behind her and it was making her just as anxious. Then Peter moved him arm.

“Peter?” Maria called out.

Peter turned abruptly and his foot slid. And he started to fall.

“PETER!”

She threw herself to the ledge and grabbed his hand just as he used the other hand to grab onto the ledge.

They were struggling to keep hold of each other now…

Then Wade was above them, grabbing hold of Peter’s slipping hand and Maria’s arm, tugging on them.

Then the others were hurrying over and trying to help as well.

***

Peter clung to Wade’s shirt in his sleep while lying on his bed. Wade couldn't bring himself to sleep after the events of the day. He just couldn't. He'd almost lost Peter, and he was positive it was his fault.

He'd apologised about a thousand times once they've managed to save the boy from falling to his death, and no matter how many times Peter told him to stop apologising he just couldn't bring himself to obey.

Wade closed his eyes and sighed, leaning his head back against the hard plastic headboard of the bed, then reopened them and looked down at the sleeping boy in his arms.

He brought a hand up and removed Peter’s glasses then ran his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment and leave ideas!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my buddy Phoenyx for helping me with this chapter. I love you, man!

Sam awoke to a scarred face blocking his view of the ceiling. He jolted.

“WADE! What the fuck, man?” he exclaimed.

“I need your help!” Wade explained.

And that was how Sam found himself helping Wade sneak out of the hospital. What for? Sam wasn't expecting this.

“Firecrackers?” His eyes were wide and his mouth was agape. “What the hell do you plan on doing with those?”

“I plan on having fun, Sammy boy,” Wade replied, grinning and holding the explosives close like a favourite toy.

“You're not planning on setting those off in the building are you?” Sam asked, eyebrows knitting together in worry.

Wade simply made a pssh! noise and waved a hand dismissively. “What? No…” he said in a pitched tone.

“Wade Wilson,” Sam said slowly, grabbing the other man’s arms. “Promise me you won't set those off in the building.”

Wade sighed. “I promise,” he said.

***

Wade Wilson you fucking liar.

***

Wanda was sleeping soundly when her dead twin brother suddenly appeared in her dream. And then she was back there, back at her old house. Back in the room where it happened.

She drifted her gaze around. It was all peaceful. She was by herself in the room, until the light in the hallway turned on and the door swung open. There he was: her twin brother, her other half… Pietro.

“Pi?” she said softly, forgetting it was just a dream.

Pietro looked at her. “Are you okay, Маленький?” he asked. Of course he used that nickname, “Little One.”

Wanda scoffed. “You are only twelve minutes older!” she chuckled, throwing a pillow at him. He laughed and blocked it with his arms.

“Hey!” he chuckled out.

Then the sirens started.

The twins looked at each other with equally terrified expressions, then Pietro hurried to the door.

Wanda stayed put.

She remembered what was about to happen.

“Pietro,” she said quickly, “Get away from the window! Get away!”

Then there was an explosion. And Pietro was gone. Again. She couldn't have him.

Wanda started screaming.

***

Scott jerked up at the sound of explosions and crackling. He got up and went to investigate.

He was halfway down the hall when he heard the screaming.

“Wanda?” he called out, and started running back in the other direction to the ginger-haired girl’s room.

“Wanda?!”

He stumbled into the room and saw her curled into a tiny ball on the bed.

“Oh fuck…” he muttered. “Wanda?”

He made his way over carefully and cautiously. He sat on the bed gently and placed a hesitant hand on her back.

“Wanda wake up,” he said. “Wake up, it's okay!”

She stopped shaking momentarily, and opened her eyes. She looked around the room. Then another wave of crackles and explosions went off and she burst into tears. She threw herself at Scott and sobbed heavily. He looked down at her again-shaking figure with wide, concerned eyes. The he started to stroke her hair.

“What's wrong?” he asked in a gentle tone. “What happened? Are the booms scaring you?”

She could only whimper and nod.

“Is it reminding you of…” Should he bring up that memory she had shared with him? There was no other way for her to know what he was talking about… “Is it reminding you of when your brother… died?”

She sniffed and nodded again. “I miss him, Scott…” she said quietly.

“I know.” He frowned and ran his fingers through her hair again. “I know you do.”

The two fell silent as Wade was dragged by the door, cackling loudly. “That was FUN!” the man exclaimed.

Scott sighed and held Wanda closer, not noticing how she was holding onto his arm a certain way. As though she knew what was underneath the fabric of the sleeves… She stopped crying in a short moment. Her breathing started to return to normal and her shaking ceased.

She gently brushed her thumb across the hem of the man’s sleeve.

Should she confront him? Should she tell him she knew? Should she ask him to tell her why?

She closed her eyes and nuzzled against his chest and cast her gaze back down to his hand that wasn't in her hair, but the one resting on the bed, holding him up so he wouldn't fall over.

She should do it…

“Hey Scott? I have a question…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! I love comments.


	15. Chapter 15

Steve shovelled food into his mouth. He was hiding in the bathroom of his and Bucky’s room, and had managed to sneak extra snacks from the vending machines. He had read online and in a magazine that the fats and sugars and salts in certain snacks could help one obtain more body mass—which in his mind meant muscle and could make him bigger.

He kept glancing toward the door, making sure no one knocked or asked to come in.

After the incident with Wade, everyone was a bit on edge. If one was in the bathroom for too long, the roommate would start to worry.

Steve sighed softly and looked at the Cheetos bag in his hand. Bucky knew he had nothing to worry about with him, right? He knew Steve wouldn't do anything? He knew Steve wouldn't try to kill himself like Wade or that weird Scott guy or any of the other members of their dumb group therapy sessions, correct?

He ate another handful of the cheesy snack and leaned against the shower door.

He was going to be fine. He knew he was. He just had to keep trying to get big. Big like Bucky. He was tired of being small, of being compared to Chihuahuas; “feisty” and “adorably angry.”

He could fuck you up! He could!

“Sure, we believe you,” they would say, then turn away and laugh. “He's like an angry short person!” they would snicker to each other.

He hated being small. He was just a year younger than Bucky! Why doesn't he look anything like him? Why don't they have the same body size and type?

He coughed. Shit, the nurse assigned to bring him his nightly medication hadn't come yet. She was late, he could tell though he doesn't have a watch and there was no clock in the bathroom. Looking at the remaining snacks, he came to a decision and stood. He hid everything back under some towels and behind the toilet, washed his hands, then exited the bathroom.

He wiped his mouth and looked around the room. Bucky was still out.

 _Suppose I could draw while I wait_ , Steve thought.

He shuffled over to his bed and took the sketch book and collection of pens and pencils out from under the pillow. He had them hidden, yes.

Bucky knows that Steve draws, but he doesn't know about these ones. These drawings are personal… These drawings are about what Steve feels. _Are_ what he feels, and what he wants.

What he wants to be…

A few minutes into sketching, the nurse came in.

“My apologies for being so late,” she said. “I was a little caught up.”

Steve merely nodded and sat up. The nurse came over and handed him the tiny cup with the medication and a mini bottle of water.

Why was his immune system and body so fucked up? Why?

He flopped back onto the pillows once the woman left the room. Closing his eyes, he fell asleep.

***

Bucky entered the room to find Steve fast asleep on the bed. He walked over and reached out to pull the blanket up around his friend’s shoulders when he saw it. The sketchbook.

Bucky loved Steve’s drawings. Always has. But this sketchbook didn't look familiar. He set it on the small table between their beds and then fixed the covers.

Taking up the book again, he sat on his own bed. He looked at it for a long moment, keeping it on his lap but not opening it. He glanced over at Steve took a deep breath before opening the book.

And he was shocked.

The first sketch was… impressive yet… He didn't know how to describe it properly. It was a sketch of tightened, shrivelled up lungs. He looked over the whole front of the page, then gently turned it and saw in tiny, hasty lettering in the middle of the back, one word: Asthma.

The next sketch was of a skeleton. A lot of shading had been done to it, and slight smearing. The back of this page read: Bone Thin.

Bucky glanced over at Steve and frowned slightly. Steve really had a talent, but this was nothing like what was in his other sketchbook.

One more page, then he’ll stop.

He turned the page and froze. This was obviously a self portrait… but the Steve Rogers on the page was muscular and big and his face wasn't as sunken and tired. Bucky carefully turned the page and looked at the back. “The Me I Wish To See” was scrawled there.

“Oh Stevie….” Bucky muttered.

Steve made a gentle noise in his sleep, causing Bucky to hastily close the book and toss it onto the table. He looked at Steve who stayed asleep, rolling over to the other side, back facing Bucky.

Bucky exhaled slowly, then laid back and stared at the ceiling.

Steve really did think those things, didn't he…

Bucky lay his hand on his stomach and sighed softly. What can he do about this? What can he do with his best friend?

What _can_ he do?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so bad for this chapter. It's sad...

Clint was sitting in the cafeteria, picking at his food with the plastic fork. He was in a funk.

He was brought out of the funk when he was informed that one of his best friends named Kate Bishop was there to see him. He had missed Kate. The girl was taking care of his dog, Lucky, while he has been away.

He sat at the table excitedly while waiting for Kate to arrive.

The black-haired girl entered the cafeteria and looked for her friend. She spotted him and headed over.

“Barton,” she greeted with a smirk. “You're looking well.”

“As are you, Hawkeye,” Clint returned the greeting with a wide grin and a curt nod.

“I've missed you,” he said as she sat down across from him.

“Right back at you,” Kate said.

“How’ve you been?” Clint asked quickly, wanting to get started with the conversation.

“I've been well,” the raven-haired girl replied. “And you?”

“Same ol’, same ol’,” the blond male shrugged.

“Look, Clint, I came to tell you some… news,” Kate said, tone changing to one of nervous and empathy.

Clint’s grin fell. “What happened?” he asked, voice serious. “Kate, what happened?”

The female took a deep breath and lowered her head for a brief moment before looking Clint in the eyes. “It's Lucky, Clint…”

“What… What about him? He's okay, right?” Clint started rambling. “Is he sick? Is he _hurt_?”

“Clint, he…” Kate trailed off, unsure how to phrase what she wanted to say. Then she decided to just be blunt and get it out. “He passed. I’m so sorry! He… I tried everything, as did the vets. We tried, Clint. I’m sorry. No one could save him…”

Clint fell silent, expressionless.

“I’m going to pretend you didn't just tell me that.” He refused to believe it. Not Lucky; not Pizza Dog. Not his dog.

“Clint, I’m sorry you had to find out like this… But Grills told me that we shouldn't hide it. And we shouldn't wait,” Kate said softly, playing with the strap of the purple watch on her wrist.

“Stop talking about him,” Clint said coldly.

“I know he meant a lot to you— he did to me too,” Kate kept on. “But we have to accept that he's–”

“SHUT UP, KATE!” Clint shouted at her. “Leave. Lucky isn't dead! I know he's not! Just get. Out. And don't come back until you're ready to not lie to me about my dog!”

Kate sat there for a moment, staring at him. Then she sighed softly and stood.

“Goodbye, Barton. I’ll see you soon.”

Then she left. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stream Living With Yourself on Netflix.

The twenty-third day of August. Natasha hated this day with a burning passion. Why? It's her birthday. And it happens to be today. 

 

She was in a bad mood. It was obvious. She wouldn't talk to anyone, she barely moved…

 

No one knew her real birthday, except Clint (now) and the doctors because they had forced it out of her while she was under anaesthesia when she first arrived and she was being uncooperative. 

 

So only they knew. No one else does. 

 

Until….

 

***

 

“Why’s Natasha acting weird today?” Bruce asked during lunch. He was glancing down the table at the mentioned red-head, who was conversing quietly with a sad-looking Clint Barton. 

 

“I dunno,” Tony replied. 

 

“Should we ask her?” Peter asked, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“She's a girl,” said Carol from further down the table. “That means no. She’ll tell you when she's ready. It’s best not to push.”

 

Bruce looked around the table at the others. “She has a point…” he said. “We shouldn't pry.”

 

“Maybe Barton knows,” Tony suggested. “We could ask him.”

 

“Did you not just hear what I said?” Carol asked a bit aggressively. 

 

“We could just check her file and see if anything happened to her,” Scott piped up. 

 

“Two things, Lang,” Tony said. “1. Isn't that illegal? And 2. How would we do that?”

 

Scott leaned forward. “1. It kinda is, but what's new? And 2. I know how.”

 

And that was how Tony, Wanda, and Scott found themselves in the hall where the offices and patient records were. On the way there, Scott had stumbled into a doctor and when they were asked what they were doing, they had simply assured the questioner that they were merely on their way to the activity room. 

 

Tony looked skeptical and bored as Scott tapped his fingers on the wood of the door. “How do you plan on getting in—” 

 

There was a click and Scott turned the knob and the door pushed open. “Tada!” the man beamed and turned to Tony. 

 

“How did you…?”

 

“He stole the key from the nurse he ran into,” Wanda replied and took Scott’s wrist—gently—and raised it up to show Stark the key the other male was holding. 

 

“I’m not going to ask how you managed that without getting caught,” Tony said simply, then pushed past the two and entered the room. He pointed to the three filing cabinets. “We each take one and look for Nat’s file,” he instructed. 

 

“Got it,” Scott and Wanda said in unison. 

 

Then the trio set to work. 

 

They rifled through the files, looking at the names on the tabs of each one. 

 

“Anyone know her last name?” Scott asked as he looked through the ‘N’ section. 

 

“Romanov? Rowanda….” Tony started guessing. “It starts with an ‘R,’ that’s all I know.”

 

“Got it.” Scott opened a different drawer and started looking. He started pulling files out and opening them and putting them back. 

 

“There’s like, thirty Natasha’s in this section,” he said. 

 

“Split the damn pile into three, Lang,” Tony hissed, yanking a few files away from the man. 

 

Scott huffed softly and handed Wanda a portion of the stack. 

 

A few long moments later, Wanda stood straight abruptly. “I found her,” she said. The two males looked up quickly. 

 

“You did?” Scott asked eagerly. 

 

“You’re sure it’s her?” Tony asked. 

 

The two made their way over to stand at either side of Wanda and peered at the file she was holding. They were met with a photograph paper clipped inside the manila folder of a familiar—yet younger-looking—red headed Russian girl. 

 

“Yeah… That’s Tasha…” Tony said.


	18. Chapter 18

“It’s her birthday?” Bucky repeated what Tony had just told him, more like a question however. 

“Yeah. I don’t really see why she’s so upset about it, though…” Tony said, plopping down on the couch beside Bucky. 

The group—minus Natasha and Clint—were lounging around the hospital waiting room. They were discussing what Wanda and the boys had found out. 

“Some people just don’t like birthdays,” Rhodey said. “Sometimes the day holds bad memories for people, and other times they never celebrated their birthday growing up so why start now?”

“Rhodes has a point,” Sam said. He was leaning against a wall eating from a box of purple TicTacs. 

“Should we do something for her?” Scott asked the group, working on a little braid in Wanda’s hair where they were seated on the floor in front of the couch. 

“We could throw a mini birthday party,” Peter suggested. 

“She might not like that,” Carol said from the seat she was sprawled out in. “With the way she’s acting, she might just want to hang out and not make a big fuss.” She looked at the rest of the group. They were staring at her. 

“What?” she asked. “It’s just a thought.”

“That is actually a good idea,” Wanda agreed with the blonde. “She will not hate us after that.”

“Can we still have cake, though?” Thor asked, eyes begging. He was seated on one of the chairs, his wide, godly frame had required him to squeeze in.

“We would have to ask one of the doctors if that’s okay,” Bruce pointed out from his seat beside Thor’s.

The blond man’s face fell. “Oh…” 

“But, that doesn’t mean we can’t get anything from the gift shop! They have candy and stuff in there, right?” Bruce said quickly.

“Oh,” Thor said. Then he smiled widely, “Okay!”

“So how’re we gonna convince her to hang out with us without making death threats?” Tony asked. 

“Ask her nicely,” Wanda suggested, a hopeful look in her eyes as Scott divided another section of her hair into three.

“We shouldn’t go up as a group, that’s too… what’s the word?” Bruce said, and started thinking hard. “Threatening.”

“You’re right,” Sam said, popping another TicTac in his mouth.

“Who wants to be the one to do that?” Rhodey asked. 

Everyone looked at each other, then Bucky sighed. 

“I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll talk to her.”

“You sure you want to be the one to do it?” Steve asked, finally speaking for the first time. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “I’ll do it.” 

“Hey, um… While looking at her file, I noticed she’s turning twenty-one today,” Scott said. “I can maybe sneak out and get drinks if anyone wants…?”

“No, don’t,” Rhodey said quickly. 

“Why not?” Scott asked. 

“Tony’s a recovering alcoholic,” the dark-skinned man explained, casting a glance toward the mentioned male. 

“Oh… never mind then,” Scott said. 

“Okay then. Where will we meet?” Rhodey asked the group. 

Then they set to planning. 

***

“James, where are we going?” Natasha asked as she and Clint walked with Bucky toward the yard. She had, with slight reluctance in the beginning, agreed to “hang out” with the group. She was starting to realise she didn’t hate them as much as she had initially thought. 

Bucky looked over his shoulder at her. “Outside. It’s where they want to meet,” he explained to the redhead. 

Nat cast a glance at Clint, who shrugged in response. 

Bucky held the door open for the two, then followed them out. 

The group was sitting in a circle with a pile of candy and other sweets in the middle. They looked toward the trio that had decided to join them. 

Nat froze. “What’s this for?” she asked, accent cutting through. 

Everyone passed glances to each other, then Carol huffed and looked at Natasha. 

“We found out today was your birthday, and they wanted to throw you a party but I told them it might not be a good idea,” she said. Nat nodded along slowly. Carol continued: “So instead, we compromised with this.”

Natasha nodded and sat down silently. Clint plopped down beside her and Bucky went over to Steve. 

“Happy birthday, Nata,” Clint said softly. 

Natasha smiles her first, genuine smile in years.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ideas from the last few chapters (and this one) came from @Birdy_f. Thanks so much, hun. I love your ideas.

October rolled around. 

 

Wanda entered her room after group session and sat on her bed. She brought her knees to her chest and sighed, wrapping her arms around her legs. 

 

She closed her eyes for a long second then slid off the bed and reached under. She pulled a little wooden box out. Turning to lean her back against the side of the bed, she opened the box and peered inside. Multiple papers—letters, actually—and photographs. All the letters from Pietro, her twin brother, and the photographs of the two together. She held her breath and took the haphazardly folded paper off the top of the pile inside. She set the box aside and unfolded it carefully. This was one of the three that always brought her to tears quicker than the others. It read:

 

_“1. twins_

  1. _connected_
  2. _red_
  3. _blue_
  4. _fast_
  5. _smart_
  6. _reckless_
  7. _protect_
  8. _powerful_
  9. _duo_
  10. _team_
  11. _together_



_This is what we, as twins, are. Never forget that, dear sister.”_

 

Pietro has given her this list of words that he associated with the two of them for their last birthday before the attack. 

 

Wanda choked back a sob, memories of her passed twin striking her hard like a flood. Like the explosion that had taken him from her. 

 

Then she couldn’t hold it back anymore and just broke down. 

 

Scott had made to enter the room when he heard the crying. He contemplated alerting her of his arrival, or just heading over and consoling her instead. He opted for the latter option and headed over silently, socked feet preventing any noise on the linoleum floor. He sat down beside her and brought his legs to his chest and looked right ahead. 

 

“Hey,” he braved in a gentle tone. “What’s wrong?” He turned his gaze over to her. 

 

Wanda just leaned against him abruptly and continued to let all of the built up emotion out. She clung to the long-sleeved shirt the male was wearing. 

 

He hesitated a moment before wrapping his arms around her in what he hoped was a comforting way. 

 

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay, just let it out. Just let it all out.” And Wanda did. 

 

Even after she had finished crying and ran out of tears to shed, the two stayed where they were on the floor of the hospital room.

 

Then there was a gentle knock on the wooden door that drew the duo’s attention. It was none other than Peter Parker standing in the doorway. 

 

“Hey Peter,” Scott said, not removing his arm from Wanda’s shoulders. “What’s up?”

 

“I um… I’m sorry if I interrupted anything…” the teenager apologised. “It’s just… I realised something.”

 

“What is that?” Wanda asked, her Romanian accent thicker than normal from her earlier crying. She wiped at the tear tracks going down her face. 

 

“I just realised they’re not going to release me in time for my senior prom.”


	20. Chapter 20

“Let me get this straight,” Nurse Coulson said slowly, “You want to hold prom…. here…?”

Scott stared at the nurse for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah. That’s what I said. Six times.”

“You do realise you’re twenty-two, right?” Coulson asked.

“I’m aware,” Scott nodded. “But it’s not for me. It’s for Peter Parker.”

“Why are you wanting to do this for Mr. Parker?” the nurse inquired. 

The patient sighed, slumping in his seat. “Peter realised he wouldn’t be released in time for his high school prom,” he started. “And I think that every high school student should experience prom. I don’t want him to miss out on that.”

“I see.” Coulson stayed silent for a long, suspenseful moment before sighing and staring at the tabletop separating himself from Scott. 

He finally spoke. “I’ll see what I can do.”

A grin broke out across Scott’s face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exclaimed. 

“Hold on, hold on,” Coulson said quickly. “We can’t hold it here.”

Scott’s grin faltered a moment. “What? Why?”

“For one, it’s a hospital,” the nurse pointed out. “And another thing, not enough room.”

“So… Where will we hold it?” Scott asked. 

“We can maybe rent out the rec centre down the street,” Nurse Coulson suggested. Scott nodded. 

“Okay, okay; that’s sounds good,” he said. 

“This is a good thing you’re doing, Mr. Lang,” Coulson said. “You’re not thinking about yourself for once.”

Scott snorted. “Shut up, I’ve never been selfish.” 

“How’ve you been doing?” Coulson asked suddenly. 

“I’ve been well,” Scott nodded. “I feel better.”

“That’s good to hear,” Coulson said kindly. “So you haven’t been having any of the bad thoughts? None of the… you know?”

“No, not in a while now,” Scott shook his head. 

“That’s great,” Coulson said. “You just might be on the road to release, then.”

“That’s–” the patient choked on an excited laugh. “That’s amazing! That’s– thank you!”

“I’ll see you again soon, Lang,” Coulson said, standing up. “Take care of yourself and you just might get out of here.”

Scott nodded excitedly. “Thank you, thanks.”

Coulson patted the man’s shoulder as he walked around the table to leave. Once he was gone, the grin faded from Scott’s face and he sighed and slumped in his seat. 

“Scott you lying bastard.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: this chapter is 420 words long exactly

“Where’s Clint and Natasha?” Steve asked as he looked around the activity room, trying to find the mentioned pair. 

“I’m not sure,” Tony replied, taking a seat on the floor. 

Then entered the blond and redhead… carrying a basketball with a necktie on it.

“Hey guys,” Clint said as he took a seat and set the basketball on the couch beside Carol, who eyed the ball confusedly.

“What… Who’s your friend there?” Peter asked.

Clint gasped dramatically. “You don’t recognise our beloved nurse, Phil Coulson?” 

“Who’s Phil? I thought his first name was Nurse?” Tony said. Rhodey facepalmed. Clint huffed. 

“This is Nurse Coulson,” Natasha said, and reached over and patted the basketball’s head. Eddie raised his eyebrows, then shook his head. 

“No, Venom,” he said. “You can’t eat it.” 

Clint let out a strangled noise. “What?”

“Don’t worry, he won’t,” Eddie said coolly. “I won’t let him.”

Clint still looked unsettled. 

“We haven’t in a while…” Eddie looked down. “I don’t let him make us do it anymore.”

“Wait– What?” Tony said, leaning forward a bit.

“You ate a person?” Peter asked, sinking back into himself a bit and eyes widening. 

“Once,” Eddie specified quickly. “I made V promise we won’t do it again. It scared a woman I was friends with…” He looked down, expression of shame in his eyes.

After a long, awkward silence, Clint cleared his throat and stood and took basketball-Coulson up in his arms. 

“Nata and I have some important business to attend to with Coulson,” he said. “See you majestic creatures later.” And with that, he and Natasha left.

***

The group had seen neither Natasha nor Clint since the activity room conversation. 

Then, during group, there was a crackle over the intercom. Everyone in the room held their breath. 

Then some music started to play and Peter chuckles a little. 

“No way,” he muttered, looking up at the ceiling. 

Maria and those who had been in the hospital since before the rise of Crab Rave and Creeper looked utterly confused.

Wanda glances over at Scott and giggled a little at his expression. 

“What’s happening?” Eddie asked. 

“I think we found Clint and Natasha,” Peter manages between laughs. 

The music cut off abruptly and there were giggles coming from the speakers as well as Nurse Coulson’s voice. 

“You two aren’t supposed to be in here! How did you get in? What are yo–“ Then a crackle of the microphone being shut off.

Then Peter and Wade and Wanda broke in a fit of giggles.


	22. Chapter 22

Scott was sitting in the waiting room, waiting for Maria to call him in for a one-on-one about his recovery so far when he saw her. Peter’s Aunt May had just walked through the doors to the hospital when down the across hallway came a dark-haired girl, only a couple of years younger than Scott, in the usual hospital patient outfit. Her sleeves were long, quite like Scott’s. 

Aunt May blocked his line of sight of the girl for a brief moment when she waved to him and said a friendly, “Hello, Scott.”

Scott smiles at the older woman and waved back. “Hey May.” 

When Scott returned his gaze to the hall, the dark-haired girl was gone. He frowned and looked around the waiting room, even raising up out of his seat a little. 

She wasn’t there. It’s as though she had vanished. 

“Mr. Lang,” Maria called out his name, signalling it was time for their one-on-one. Scott stood up quickly and headed into the room, missing the dark-haired girl coming out of the cafeteria doors and into the waiting room.

***

“Do you remember anything else about her?” Wanda asked Scott, picking at the fruit in the fruit cup in front of her with her fork. Over the past few weeks, she had started to eat more. She was making progress. 

Scott nodded. “She was pretty. She carried herself like she knows it—like she knows she could take down the Rock with one kick to the back of the leg.”

Wanda smiled at him cheekily. “That is cute. You are in love,” she said. “But that description does not help at all. I cannot help you find this mystery girl unless you give me a vivid physical description. And don’t you dare tell me again that she has dark hair, because there are a lot of girls here that fit that description.”

Scott made a disappointed noise that was a cross between a whimper and a sigh. “Wands,” he whined, “I didn’t get that good of a look at her. Peter’s aunt came in and blocked my view…”

“Well that is too bad then,” Wanda said, giving him a fake pout-frown. Scott glared at her and took a bite of the bad hospital sandwich he had on his plate. 

Wanda giggled and reached across the table and took his hand in her own. “I am sorry,” she said. “I will help you find your mystery girl. If you think you see her again, let me know.”

Scott nodded and brought Wanda’s hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

Wanda smiled at him kindly. “Of course.”

***

Scott was sitting beside Wanda, waiting for Maria to let Wanda in for their one-on-one. Scott was waiting with her for two reasons: A distraction and they were still trying to find the dark-haired girl. 

Then there she was. She came walking down the hall and entered the waiting room. She took a seat at the other side of the waiting room, near Peggy Carter’s office. 

Scott lightly batted at Wanda’s arm. “That’s her! That’s her!” he whispered to her excitedly. “That’s the girl!”

Wanda looked at the referenced girl and her jaw dropped. “Scott! You found your mystery girl!” she grinned at the man. 

Then she was called in, and Scott watched her go, after she squeezed his hand and muttered a “good luck” to him. 

He looked back toward the dark-haired girl sitting across the room and was about to call out to her when Peggy Carter came out of her office and called the girl in. “Hope,” she said, and the girl stood and entered the office, then door swinging shut behind her. 

“Hope,” Scott muttered to himself softly. And he suddenly felt hopeful.


End file.
